


Aureum

by wickedlore



Series: Drarry AUs [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Muggle-born, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17030253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlore/pseuds/wickedlore
Summary: The war between purebloods and those not of pure blood is raging. On one side of the battlefield, a boy in a pureblood group called "The Knowing" prepares hesitantly to marry a fellow pureblood, while on the other side, a wizard with skills in defense and a special status within the half-blood, muggle-born, and squib group called "Aureum" is getting ready to invade the Knowing headquarters, the Scio, with his crew.





	1. Part One

     Draco slicked back his hair in the mirror. Even he could see how the flame his parents constantly attempted to quell had finally disappeared, making his eyes fade from the silver stars they used to be to emotionless stone. He averted his gaze and shrugged on his favorite coat, the one that was itchy and gray, but nonetheless comforted him.

     He rubbed his chapped lips together, coughing as his throat began to dry. The mirror had to be warped. Did he really have tears streaming down his face, little rivulets against the snow of his skin? No, it couldn't be. But when he touched his cheek, it was wet, and his heart went colder.

\- - -

     The wand Harry held was absent with the life that usually curled like dragon's flame within the wood. He twisted it and glared at the strange vines that curled up its side. No. It wouldn't do. Making a noise of irritation in the back of his throat, he threw down the wand and picked up another, his heart aching as the second wand sparked duly when he attempted to wield it.

     The Knowingsmen that had destroyed his original wand had had hair that fell down his back like an icy waterfall, but Harry didn't know whether the peculiar color was due to age or genetics. His eyes had been flecks of dull, gray stone set into his face, and the sneer that marred his delicate features had made Harry's stomach drop with anxiety. However, he was trained to deal with the anxiety disorder that affected his every move and action, so it wasn't a problem... usually.

     The noise that flickered in his throat like a dying flame brightened to a roar, and he threw down the wand, flinching as it hissed and spat like it was a living thing; which, apparently, it was. Harry retreated slowly, eyeing the wand before placing his hand blindly on a box behind him.

     Ah. The object, whatever it was, buzzed against Harry's hand, and a warm feeling engulfed the boy as he glanced towards it. To his surprise, it wasn't a wand, but rather a strange looking sword carved with familiar, yet unplaceable, runes. The blade was polished well enough that he could see his appearance. Despite being only seventeen, he was surprised to see that he appeared older, his tired eyes marred by bruise colored rings and his lips set so it made his face look sharper. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, feeling silly for noticing his appearance. But still, no matter the tiredness and general feeling of war that painted his face like makeup, he couldn't help but recognize the spark that danced in his lively, though exhausted, eyes.

\- - -

     Draco jerked away from the mirror, and stumbled to the window beside his bed, his hand sliding against the bitingly cold marble of the windowsill. Outside, a soft, silent snow fell upon the grounds of Scio Manor, making the garden look like something from a dream. But Draco knew that it was truly anything but.

     His watery eyes drifted to the tree at the center of the garden. _His_ tree. He pictured it as it was during the spring, emerald leaves sprouting from branches as white as bone and blossoms like the sunrise blooming from those leaves. He pictured it as it was during the autumn, the flowers faded to a gorgeous white and the leaves turning a fiery orange, unlike the rest of the garden, which eternally stayed green and luscious under the orders of his mother.

     A small sigh escaped Draco's lips. Just the idea of him curling up in those branches, his quivering fingers wrapped around an old book in his favorite language, French, or perhaps one of his father's ornate telescopes, had his toes, numb from the cold, curling within his boots. But his happiness was brought to gloom as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw house elves setting up his _wedding_.  He thought the word as if it were a curse.

     What an absolutely horrid time to have a wedding, especially in the midst of a war with a cause that Draco could neither stand for nor stand against. If he stood for the things the Knowing so avidly worshipped, the life behind his eyes would shutter even more, and the joy that occasionally made his lips twist would be absent. However, if he had the courage to stand against his parents, against Mr. Riddle, against the Knowing, his blood would burn paths through his body, and his father would send a curse towards him faster than he could blink.

     Why would he risk his life for a war not worth fighting?

\- - -

     As Harry exited the storage room, the blade in a modest scabbard slung carefully across his back, one of the sana he had forgotten the name of nudged him. He turned to her and she silently shoved a mug filled with warm butterbeer into his hands before retreating. The sana in the Aureum were famous - or, rather, infamous, with some folk - for their prophetic abilities, and he had a feeling that the young girl had known he would need the drink.

     He sipped it slowly, relishing the too sweet taste of the beer on his tongue before handing it to a passing fellow bellator, then walked briskly down the hall towards the callidus quarters. He approached the door of one of the newest members of the Aureum. Before he could even knock, she had the door open, her brow arched expectantly.

     "Yes, Bellator Potter?" she said, pressing her lips together.

     "Callidus Parkinson, I'm aware that you just escaped from the Knowing. Is there anybody else, er, trapped, that could provide useful to us?" Harry questioned, his mouth dry.

     In the war ravaged world, there were six groups in which an individual could be placed in. There were the docere, generally leaders and instructors that aided the younger ones; the bellator, who were mainly warriors; the callidus, who were assassins, spies, and scouts; the sana, who were healers and protectors, and more often than not had prophetic abilities; the pulchra, who were strategists, artists for when the days grew especially grim, and scholars; and finally, the umbra, who were those who didn't fit into any specific category, along with the squibs and rare muggles that worked with them. The groups were based off of an old system that, in a time before the Knowing and the Aureum even existed, thrived in a school that Docere McGonagall had attended, but refused to tell stories of.

     Pansy's eyes went dark. "Yes, there is, in fact." She didn't explain any further.

     "And... is there anything we can do to get him to our side?"

     She began speaking, but to Harry's confusion, didn't answer his question directly. "He is what you would call a callidus. An assassin, one that works with poisons. Merlin's beard, if Callidus Riddle made him assassinate some of the Aureum... even a sana gifted with healing magic couldn't do anything. He's terrifying. You're lucking that he's so adamant on not poisoning until he's eighteen, though, in reality, I don't think he wants to be a Knowingsman at all." As she said the last part, her voice went quiet, as if somebody was listening.

     "What's his name?"

     "He... we called him _Zmaj_. The Dragon."

\- - -

     Draco's mother held his arm in a vise-like grip, her smile plastic.

     "Oh, _Zmaj_ , you look stunning," she cooed, and Draco felt as if he was going to throw up, his stomach like a storm. Instead, he just smiled faintly in response. His mother had always preferred her native language, Croatian, to the French, English, and Gaelic he knew she was fluent in.

     "Thank you, _Majka_." His tone was tight. She recognized the sound and frowned.

     "Is there something wrong?" She switched to French, the only language Draco was interested in, the only language nobody else except for them understood.

     "Of course not," he switched as well, the lie making his teeth ache. "I am excited to meet my future wife."

     "Really?" The cage surrounding his heart beginning to shrink, making him short of breath as he realized his mother was excited. "Oh, I knew you would be happy! She's one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen, but... ah. Well, you won't be seeing her until you take off her veil at the altar, will you?" The cage tightened even more.

     "What? But the party-"

     She shushed him, waving a hand in front of his face. They had begun to approach the ballroom, but she halted suddenly, turning to face him.

     "Ah, Draco, darling? The party is a masquerade. Did Pulchra Leanne not tell you? Well, I do have your mask - I hope you don't mind that it's purple instead of callidus green or silver." She reached into the folds of her large, emerald green skirts and pulled out a beautifully simple mask in the shape of a bird's face. It was swathed in shining periwinkle silk that was actually more blue than purple, and must've cost an absolute fortune, with loops of silver thread decorating it. Draco's mother set the mask onto his face and tied the ivory ribbon attached to the sides behind his head. She then pressed a soft kiss on the part of his cheek that went uncovered, no doubt leaving a smudge of her velvet lipstick behind.

     "Go," she whispered to her son, her lively blue eyes so different from his father's. "Go, Callidus Malfoy, and remember; Callidus Greengrass, that wife of yours, is powerful and brave enough to fight with you against those bastards."

     And Draco smiled.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of Part One.

     The moment Draco stepped into the ballroom, the Knowingsmen went silent, gazing at him with faint amusement from behind ornate masks. He shuffled uncomfortably. Behind him, his mother slipped into the ballroom, making her way to the bar where his father talked with Callidus LeStrange.

     Draco swallowed thickly, jumping as somebody slid their hand into his.

     "Hello, Draco." Blaise's voice was a satin purr. Chills raced down Draco's spine, anticipating something that could no longer happen. He let go of Blaise's hand.

     "Hello, Callidus Zabini." Blaise wrinkled his nose at the formality.

     "Oh, come on, Draco! We're _friends_ , aren't we?" He stressed the word, implying that it was anything but true. Draco let out a hiss.

     "Shut up. Just... shut up. I have no interest in talking to you, ever." Draco's heart raced with the lie. And, judging from his smirk, Blaise knew it too.

     "Liar," he breathed, and the blonde boy squirmed out of his grip, the shivery anticipation from before turning into slight discomfort.

     "Callidus Zabini, you have no right to talk to me in that manner. I am the son of the second in command, the chosen poisoner of Callidus Riddle, and you do not have the right to talk to me. Goodnight, now," Draco snapped, and stormed away, feeling a bit of guilt he heard Blaise's breath catch.

     Now, Draco wasn't in love with the boy; no, not at all. Rather, remnants from their times of experimentation remained, making Draco's mouth occasionally go dry with the thought of Blaise's satin tongue and iron threaded words. But he was done with Blaise's games.

\- - -

     His blade buzzed against Harry's back with magic that rattled his bones. Behind him, the bellators, Hermione and Ron, readied their charms, while Pulchra Lovegood and Sana Abbott talked quietly. To his right, Pansy struggled to rub away her smudged smile.

     "You're going to have to be aware," Pansy said once the room fell silent, "the Callidus that live at Scio Manor are the best in the world. If you desire help, look for _Zmaj_ , Callidus Zabini, Callidus Greengrass, or Callidus Black-Malfoy. No one else."

     "Callidus Black-Malfoy? Isn't she married to Callidus Malfoy?" Hermione interjected, her brow furrowed.

     Pansy nodded slowly, a blush staining her cheeks as she and the female bellator made brief eye contact. "Yes, but she's as much a Knowingsman as you all are."

     Slowly, they began to filter out of the room. Pansy grabbed Harry's arm.

     "Bellator Potter? Callidus Riddle, he -- he knows you're coming. He has a powerful sana on his side, one with considerable prophetic skills. Sana Ravenna likely doesn't know which way you're going to enter, but she's going to assume you're going to take the route through the forest."

     Harry nodded gravely. "Okay. But... are you not coming with us?"

     "I'm afraid I cannot. They have protection spells that are specifically tailored to keep out traitors, and, well, I'm just that. I'll get you killed, if I come. And anyway -- you have Bellator Granger on your side, and she ought to be a pulchra."

     The edge of Harry's mouth twitched. "Yeah, she should."

     However, far after the group had left the Aureum territory, Harry realized he had forgotten to ask who _Zmaj_ even was.

\- - -

     An hour in, Draco had grown tired of the continual line of suitors offering their hands to his despite knowing he was to be wed to Callidus Greengrass, and the wailing of the violin being played by a, to be frank, horribly untalented Pulchra. His feet ached from running to avoid Blaise, not to mention the countless dances. But he had yet to meet Callidus Greengrass.

     Just as that thought passed his mind, a woman wearing a Bellator red silk dress that hugged her curves approached him, peering up with eyes green as jewels. However, the rest of her face was hidden by an intricately done mask covered in, strangely, black feathers.

     "Hello, Callidus Malfoy. Care to dance?" she said softly, her voice satin.

     "Of course," he murmured, and took her gloved hand, leading her to the center of the ballroom.

     Women in jewel toned gowns whirled past, their faces set with careful happiness that was betrayed by the dull appearance of their eyes. Men in mostly silver suits led them, their faces made of stone.

     His mind lost in thought, he spun the young woman around, faintly marveling in the graceful way she placed her slippered feet against the marble floor.

     "You seem quite down," she said matter-a-factly, soon after the first song had ended.

     He stifled the urge to let go of her waist and hand. "I am having a swell time, actually. Care to accompany me to the bar?"

     She nodded, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief as he was able to let go of her waist and instead walk briskly to the bar. He picked up a lonely glass of golden alcohol and sipped it. The woman came up behind him and picked up a ruby toned flute, downing it in one swig.

     "I hate dances too, don't worry yourself." She hid a yawn beneath her hand.

     Draco spluttered. "I don't-"

     "Sure," she said, her maroon lips curling in a smile. "Then why are you so mournful? I never knew Callidus Malfoy to be such a way."

     He took another sip, bigger than the one before. "Perhaps you are thinking of my father."

     "Lucius Malfoy?" She let out a snort, to which the bartender shot her a look of disdain. She ignored him. "Yeah, no. He's a prick... no offense."

     "Don't worry, I think of him in the same way."

     Her laughter that time was a bark. "I'm surprised Callidus Riddle's chosen assassin would even say such a thing! Well, I take that back. If you would sleep with Callidus Zabini, who knows what else you would do?"

     Draco choked on his drink. "I didn't...."

     "Yes, you did. I'm a callidus with a sana gift. I see the beyond." She waved her fingers teasingly.

     "A callidus? In bellator red?"

     "Unfortunately. My mother thought it would be best if I worked as a strategist, but you know what? I'm better as a violinist," she said, and grabbed at another flute of ruby alcohol.

      Draco's heart warmed with liking for the mysterious, dark haired beauty. Later, when the sky went velvet blue and Draco's favorite constellation, Orion's Belt, shone like a string of diamonds in the sky, Draco retreated to his room, and dreamt of a brilliant escape.

\- - -

     "How much longer until we reach the Knowing territory?" Ron asked, his head inclined towards Hermione despite speaking with their replacement for Pansy, Callidus Rosenhart. They walked on foot, Sana Abbott's fears of being seen by a Knowingsman spread throughout the group. The ground they walked upon was ravaged orange and black from war.

     "I'm a strategist, not a goddamn clock," the callidus said coldly. Hermione laughed and Ron scowled, leaning away from his fellow bellator.

     Ahead, the sky rippled green and violet with the first signs of the Knowing's infamous protection spells, while the sun glowed like fire to the left.

     "We'll have to stop for the night," Harry said, halting as they were about to pass a small outcropping. Callidus Rosenhart shot a look at the cave-like shelter, but didn't argue, stopping as well.

     And, later that night, when the stars shone silver and the moon was a crooked smile against the darkened sky, Harry's thoughts were still on the mysterious _Zmaj_.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale of Aureum.

     A day later, the silk of Draco's jacket burned like a brand against his body. His mouth tasted sour, and his thoughts raced, never quite still enough to truly think. The tie he had on itched - it was silver as ice, woven with callidus green that made his gray eyes almost seem the same color, but he hated it. Why? Because his father wore the exact same one at his wedding.

     His mother gripped his hand, her lips pressed so tightly together that they were white. The dress she had on for the wedding was nearly identical to the one she wore the night, save for the color; it was black instead of emerald, as if she were going to a funeral, the color making her stand out from the attendees who wore the traditional scarlet garb.

     " _Zmaj_ , darling, you're going to be fine," she promised, squeezing his hand. He couldn't muster the energy to do repeat the gesture.

     He was not going to be fine. Suddenly, it felt as if the tie around his neck were choking him. He gagged, but hid the movement behind his free hand.

     His mother began to walk towards the iron wrought gate that led to the garden, vines sprouting white blossoms crawling up the metal. He followed hesitantly.

     On your wedding day, the air is supposed to be electric. It is supposed to hiss with the lightning brought on by your feelings for one another, wild and free, a storm. But the air on that day was stifling in its heat and dry as bone. To Draco's eyes, the flowers leered at him like misbehaved children. To the rest of the world, they were crystals set upon emerald leaves. To Draco's eyes, the crowd of murmuring people was dark in its intent. To the rest of the world, the crowd was joyous and celebrating something beautiful. But that something was not beautiful to him.

     He stood up to his place at the altar, not even bothering to smile. For how could he?

\- - -

     Harry's hand was tight on his blade. The group had set camp just two miles away from Scio Manor the night before, and just as dawn broke, they left the outcropping and ventured towards the headquarters. As they neared, the sound of violins and a piano met Harry's ears.

     "Do you hear that?" he murmured, his gaze sliding to Pulchra Lovegood.

     She nodded slowly. "Wedding music."

     "Surely not," Callidus Rosenhart interjected, her lips curling. "Who would get married at Scio Manor? That's horrendous."

     "Perhaps a favored Callidus?" Hermione suggested. Immediately, Callidus Rosenhart shook her head violently.

     "That... according to reports, that would be considered blasphemy."

     "Er, change, perhaps?" Sana Abbott's voice was still thick with lethargy.

     "Maybe," the callidus mumbled, her face flushing with red heat. Harry smiled slightly at Hermione, and when she returned his smile, he knew immediately she had realized the callidus and the sana knew each other much better than they had previously believed. Ron had, when they were leaving camp, crudely suggested that he had caught the two having sex, but Harry doubted it.

     "Anyway, if it's a wedding like Pulchra Lovegood suggested, we'll have a much easier time retrieving _Zmaj_ , whoever he is," Sana Abbott pointed out.

     Everyone in the group nodded, but Harry hesitated.

     "What about..." He hesitated. "What if we dress up as guests?"

     Hermione frowned. "But where would we find wedding clothes?"

\- - -

     Murmuring broke out as Callidus Greengrass stumbled into the aisle, in her hand on an amber bottle. She had her face covered by a golden veil - her dark hair was piled on her head in the form of a braid, however, rebellious curls sprung from the hairdo. Her skin was so dark it seemed black in contrast to her pale lace gloves. And, in Draco's opinion, with the combination of her golden dress and the lace, she looked like a train wreck.

     Callidus Greengrass shakily placed her bottle down on the grass, then straightened, swaying slightly as she walked briskly to the altar. When she finally stood in front of Draco, she whispered in a voice so familiar, "I look like a goddamn cake. So hurry the bloody hell up so we can get this ceremony over and I can change into sweats."

     Despite himself, Draco snorted, earning a glare from his father in the front row as the wizard to be making them husband and wife began to speak.

      "Today, we begin a ceremony to take a place during the next four hours in the form of three different events - the Blooding, the Choosing, and the Making."

\- - -

     They hid the stunned guests in an abandoned shack at the edge of Scio Manor territory. As tradition, the clothes were all a garish scarlet, with Ron, Harry, and Callidus Rosenhart donning the suits while Pulchra Lovegood, Hermione, and Sana Abbott wore dresses that varied from a conservative gown to a scanty lace monstrosity. Poor Hermione.

     They took their seats in the back, with Harry on the end, next to a woman wearing an silver gown that made her eyes shine. Harry gathered his courage and tapped her shoulder.

     "Excuse me, miss?" he said. She offered a bright smile, her eyes grudgingly moving to him.

     "Yes, young man?"

     "Do you know where I can find Callidus Black-Malfoy?"

     Immediately, her eyes narrowed. "For what reason?"

     Harry spluttered. "I, ah... need to discuss important manners with her."

     The woman folded her arms over her chest. "Fine, then. You're speaking with her."

     Harry's heart leapt with surprise. That woman was Callidus Black-Malfoy?

     "I-I'm looking for a boy nicknamed _Zmaj_."

     She blinked, her eyes widening. "That's my son. He's getting married here today." She lowered her voice. "Is... are you Aureum?"

     Recalling what Callidus Parkinson had said, Harry nodded, and the callidus beside him let out a small sigh and folded her hands in her lap.

     "You have four hours, then. Better start now."

\- - -

     Draco's father cradled the Blooding dagger in his hands, studying the white metal with gleaming eyes before passing it off to Draco's mother. She smiled sympathetically at her son, spinning the knife in her left hand.

     "I'm sorry," she said in French, hardly glancing at Callidus Greengrass, with her mysterious veil. "This'll hurt horribly." And then, she set the knife over the fire.

     Both Draco and his future wife flinched as the fire roared, the dagger burning white hot in the midst of the flames. It rippled, and when Draco's mother removed it, it looked like solid fire. She then grabbed Callidus Greengrass' arm and set the metal onto her skin.

     Her roar of pain sent twinges of fear through Draco's stomach. She hunched over, but didn't make another noise as his mother dragged it over her arm. The callidus' skin bubbled painfully but didn't cauterize, blood oozing from the terrible wounds into the golden cup Sana Rhein had set out.

     Draco's mother ripped the knife from Callidus Greengrass' ruined skin with a grunt, then grasped her son's arm with clammy hands.

     "I'm sorry," she mouthed, then began to drag it over his skin.

\- - -

     Harry's blood went cold as _Zmaj_ \- called Draco by his mother - let out a gut wrenching scream, throwing his head up towards the sky. Harry couldn't help but marvel at his beauty in the sunlight, a thought he quickly shoved aside as his screams brought the burning of tears to the bellator's eyes.

      As the boy's blood hit the golden cup, the concoction began to spit, the deep red turning a bright silver. A sana picked it up, and silently held it out for the bride and groom to drink from.

     "This is horrible," Hermione murmured beside Harry, her eyes glued to the couple.

     "What?" Ron said. "The fact that we're tearing a lad away from his family and wife on his wedding day - which you kindly forgot to mention - or the Knowing traditions?"

     "Both," Harry mumbled. "Both."

\- - -

     Draco's arm ached with a burning passion, despite Sana Rowe tending to it. The table scattered with black cards engraved with scarlet runes had his heart racing.

     "Choose one," the sana in front of him demanded, and with a shaking hand, he blindly chose the one at the center, handing it to her. When she glanced at it, she went paper white.

     "Oh," she whispered, and cast a terrified glance to Draco's father. "The Broken Halo." She didn't explain any further.

     "Well, what does that mean?" his father demanded, while the sanas in the crowd had their hands over their mouths.

     As Draco scanned the crowd, he made eye contact with a boy around his age. He had eyes that were sharp and green as emeralds, and black hair curled around his ears angelically. Immediately, heat rose in his face. Oh, Merlin...

     The sana's words brought him back from his trance, causing his eyes to snap back to the center. "It means..." she swallowed thickly. "It means an incomplete ceremony. A betrayal."

     The crowd erupted. "It must be a mistake!" somebody called, their voice unrecognizable. "Have Callidus Greengrass choose one!"

     Without waiting for the pulchra, Callidus Greengrass chose a card and looked at it herself. "The Empty Cup," she announced, eliciting wails from the sanas. "Freedom of the body. Being single. Also known as me never getting a husband."

     She placed the card on the table and lifted her veil, making eye contact with Draco. A shock went through his body at the sight. She was the fiery girl from the night before.

     "Ah, good for me. I'm up for drinks." Then, to everyone's surprise, she sauntered off, back towards the garden with who Draco assumed to be her sister on her trail.

     Draco couldn't hide the curl of his lips.

     "How are you happy about this?" his father roared, and, to his surprise, grabbed the boy by the neck, slamming him against a tree. "You just ruined your own marriage!"

     Draco tried to respond, but his voice was just a wheeze as his father squeezed harder, no doubt making plum flowers bloom at his throat.

     And then, suddenly... "Stupify!"

     His father spun away from him, and Draco crumbled to the floor. However, instead of falling, he was embraced by a pair of warm arms. When he looked up, his heart ached as he saw it was the green eyed boy.

     "Who are you?" Draco croaked, his vision darkening.

     "I am Bellator Potter, and I am here to take you to the Aureum."

     And, at that moment, Draco's frosty heart burst into flames.


End file.
